The Second Act
by NotThatIWillEverWriteIt
Summary: What He Cheng came home to after chapter 229? A bit of domestic He Cheng/Qiu.


I apologize for the sudden narration, but it is at this point of the story when it gets complicated.

The stage is set, but what now! The hero retreats behind the curtain, and the audience is left with only the supposed antagonist. People shift in their seats, suddenly uncomfortable. The uneasiness of being made to see things from another point of view sets in. It would be less troublesome to stay on the right side of the story.

I am afraid I will have to insist, though, for often in this world everything is not what it appears to be.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Please, relax back into your seats and let's resume the story.

The evening had aged into a night before He Cheng got home where he was greeted by a dim glimmer of a lamp in the otherwise dark hallway. The light blended in more and more with the darkness the further you let your eyes drift until disappearing altogether.

It might have been a lonely sight but to Cheng, it was a sign that he had been missed.

A sound of chunky nails scraping against the floor carried through the quiet apartment, and a dog pierced through the edge where light lost the fight to the darkness. It dawdled over to welcome Cheng back by giving him a brief sniff-through. Cheng buried his fingers in the golden-brown fur and gave a couple satisfying scratches behind the floppy ears.

"Sorry, I'm late. It took longer than I thought."

The dog, He, was the kind of a pet which had enough character to both frustrate you and make you fall in love with them. Like any other dog he had taught his companion patience and tolerance over the years, but it was nights like these when the inconveniences were repaid ten times over. Unfortunately, life had begun to collect its loan with interest, and Cheng had realized these moments might be more numbered than he liked to think.

After realizing there would be no late-night treats and Cheng hadn't been anywhere particularly interesting, He laid down gingerly in the middle of the hallway – where else – and let out the kind of content sigh only dogs can make. Quietly Cheng toed off his shoes and shrugged off the jacket. A mattress creaked in the bedroom – another sign that he had been waited home – and a tall, muscular man opened the bedroom door and squinted his eyes in the dim light.

"Hey," he said with a big yawn and scratched his silvery buzzcut hair absentmindedly. "Did you find out what was going on?"

"Yeah, it was just a flu. He'll be alright."

"Did you take him to a doctor?"

"I tried, but you know how he is." Cheng stepped over the dog and headed to the bathroom. "He could barely stay on his two feet but was still as stubborn as ever."

The other man leaned against the bathroom doorframe and looked as Cheng stripped to his boxers and T-shirt. "I wonder where he gets that from."

Cheng glared at him via the mirror and squeezed a ridiculous amount of toothpaste on his brush before shoving it into his mouth.

"How was your night?" he talked around the toothbrush. "Did anything happen?"

"It went down pretty much as planned."

A sharp glance bounced the mirror. "Pretty much?"

"You know there's always something."

"Does that 'something' explain why you're limping?"

"It might."

How a man with that kind of posture and menacing looks could shift into a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar so smoothly never seized to amaze Cheng. Sometimes he felt like had two younger brothers. Some of the excess minty foam dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, and he bent down to spit his mouth clean.

"Are you sure Tian will be okay by himself?"

It was a convenient change of topic, but Cheng decided to let it go. He was too tired to give lectures which would fall on deaf ears anyway.

"I stocked his fridge and bought some meds. I even prepared him soup ingredients, all he has to do is add boiling water. I know he can't cook but I'm sure he'll manage at least that without burning the building down."

He didn't mention their talk at the shore, his brother's fever hazed words, deciding he was too tired for that, too. Instead, he wiped his mouth with a towel and brushed past the other man to the bedroom.

"Come on, let's go to bed. I'll take a look at that leg of yours in the morning."

The dim light in the hallway went out with a sharp snap of the switch.

The hero will join us shortly, but I am asking you to keep what you read and, when you find some time, ponder it in your heart.


End file.
